Defense Mechanisms
by PantaPanta
Summary: Kokichi Ouma did not like physical contact. The instant Kaito Momota gripped Ouma's wrist, he knew he'd found the little liar's kryptonite. The faintest glimmer of fear in those violet eyes, the slightest tensing of his thin shoulders, the clenched jaw and piercing glare that warned him 'let go'. But since when was Kaito ever willing to back down?
1. Chapter 1 - Blood, Sweat, and Tears

**Warning: This story includes graphic descriptions of rape and violence, as well as self-harm/suicidal tendencies.**

* * *

"Nishishi~! Momo-chan's sooo stupid!"

Ouma had spent his day thus far pestering Momota to no end. The astronaut's temper was terrible enough without the supreme leader grating on his nerves, so he'd taken the liberty of inviting the smaller student to his room for negotiations; to establish a peace treaty, if you will.

"I am not! And stop calling me that!"

Evidently, progress was not being made in their relationship. That being said, neither of the two most stubborn people in the Academy would ever consider throwing in the towel.

"Kai-chan, then!"

Throwing shade and punches, however, was another story entirely.

"Why you-!" Momota raised his fist angrily. "You better shut the hell up or else!"

"Or else what?" Ouma taunted. "Is idiot-chan gonna rough me up?" A dramatic gasp, "is that why you brought me to your dorm room? Or maybe you're gonna-" he was interrupted when Momota swung at him, but managed to quickly step out of the way. "Gosh Kai-chan, you're just _super_ predictable!"

What Ouma didn't predict, however, was for Momota to grip him by the shoulders and slam him against the wall with a shout of "SHUT _UP!_ "

Snapping out of a momentary stupor, Ouma sneered. " _Make me_."

Famous last words.

Momota took both of Ouma's wrists in one hand, pinning them above his head, an action that made the smaller boy _very_ uncomfortable. He squirmed as Momota moved closer, trapping Ouma with his body. Grabbing the supreme leader's chin to tilt his gaze upwards, the astronaut growled menacingly, "shut the fuck up and get on your goddamn knees."

Ouma put all of his concentration into what came out as strangled laughter and a nervous smile. "S-Silly Kai-chan, supreme leaders don't take orders!" The small boy's life flashed before his eyes as Momota drew a thin knife from his pocket, the tip just centimeters from the flesh of his throat. "Ah...checkmate, then." Attempting to spare what shreds of dignity he still had, Ouma slowly dropped to his knees, figuring Momota just wanted him to bow or something. _Worse things could happen_ , he figured, _like having to_ -

The astronaut then reached down to unzip his fly.

 _Oh, fuck_.

"Suck it," Momota ordered, tapping the tip of his cock against the leader's lips. "Make that stupid mouth of yours useful for once."

Fearful of the not-so-subtle threat against his life, Ouma hesitantly parted his lips, cringing as Momota's dick slid between them. As luck would have it, the astronaut was definitely _not_ small. Tentatively, he ran his tongue over the tip, shuddering at the awful taste. He wasn't ashamed to admit he had no idea what he was doing. It's not as though supreme leaders make a habit of sucking dick, after all.

Regardless of Ouma's feelings on the matter, however justified they were, Momota was as impatient as ever. Taking a fistful of soft purple locks, he jerked his hips forward, shoving his length down Ouma's throat. As the leader gagged, tears welling up in his wide eyes, Momota pulled back just enough to let him breathe. He smirked, tightening his grip on Ouma's hair, and tilted the small boy's head back. "You don't mind if I borrow this, do you?"

Ouma's eyes held a gleam that said that yes, he most certainly did mind, but Momota ignored this- or rather, didn't care- in favor of relentlessly fucking the small boy's mouth.

Simultaneously fighting against his gag reflex and his tear ducts, Ouma could hardly even process what was happening. Between Momota's grunts of please and the increasingly sharp tugs on his hair, the supreme leader really just wanted it to end.

Well, as they say, be careful what you wish for.

To say that Momota's cum tasted awful would've been the understatement of the year. To say that Ouma disliked having it run down his throat would've been the understatement of the fucking century.

"I'll give you a minute before we move on."

Momota then released his hair and took a step back, chuckling in sadistic amusement as Ouma fell to his hands and knees, retching violently. The boy's stomach heaved and his entire form shook, desperate to expel such an unwanted intrusion. A multitude of possible questions and clever retorts raced through his mind, but he couldn't bring himself to choke out a single word. He was exhausted, but from the looks of things, Momota was as energized as ever.

Not that it would take much energy to sling someone of his stature onto a bed just by grabbing onto one of his (unhealthily thin) arms, but still.

Normally, Ouma was plenty quick on his feet, and would've easy leapt off the bed, dodged past Momota, and ran as far away as possible. That being said, this was not a normal situation, and Ouma was in enough of a daze that he may as well have allowed the astronaut to climb on top of him. For the second time, Ouma found his hands pinned above his head. Unlike earlier, however, a faint _click_ signified that his hands had been cuffed around one of the bedposts.

His victim now incapable of fighting back, Momota reached for the dictator's scarf, sharply yanking it off his neck. He didn't hesitate to then stuff it into Ouma's mouth and tie it behind his head, effectively gagging the pale boy.

Said boy was not a fan of this treatment, but who said Momota gave a damn?

Harsh reality began to sink in as the astronaut tugged off his pants, then chuckled. "Dude, what the fuck is up with those boxers?" He removed those too, and Ouma's face flushed with was a _supreme leader_ for God's sake; this was _humiliating!_

It took a minute for Momota to undo all the intricate buttons and clasps on his almost-a-straitjacket, having to deal with his kicking all the while, and Ouma couldn't help but chalk that up as a small victory.

His fragile, bony body was bare for the world to see, so he'd take what he could get.

Momota's eyes raked down Ouma's pale chest, sending a shiver through the small boy's form. He shook his head in protest as the astronaut forced his thighs apart, pulling at the restraints on his wrists. He whimpered, eyes wide with terror.

Momota clearly had no intention of prepping him in any way.

"Heh, fear looks good on you, Ouma." Momota smirked, lining up their hips. "All that talk of being an evil leader yet here you are, completely at my mercy."

He thrust forward.

"Now, _take it_."

No gag would have been able to entirely muffle Kokichi Ouma's screams as Momota pushed himself deeper and deeper into the small boy. Make no mistake, the dictator most certainly could handle pain (as expected from someone who continues to scheme after being shot through the spine with a poisoned arrow), but this violation _hurt_.

Momota's hands held his legs in place, spreading him wide open. It made Ouma painfully aware of how small and helpless this body of his was. The taller boy groaned, unaffected by the shorter's cries. "Damn you're tight. Are you a virgin?" His smirk grew. "Sorry, let me rephrase that. _Were_ you a virgin, Kokichi?"

The question hit him like a slap to the face; Momota had stolen something priceless from him, and he would never be able to take it back. For the first time since founding DICE, Kokichi Ouma had no control over his situation. He was being split in half, torn apart from the inside out. His insides were on _fire_. What little resolve he'd been desperately grasping shattered, and tears streamed down his cheeks.

Seeing the supreme leader in tears was an uncommon sight, so Momota egged him on. "I know you can't really scream right now, but if you could, you know nobody would care, right? Not a single person in this school gives a shit about you, not even your 'beloved Saihara-chan.'" Momota laughed as Ouma's shoulders shook with muffled sobs, the painful truths- he believed them after all- slicing his heart into pieces. "Now let's say you go and tell someone," a particularly rough thrust, "do you honestly think they'll believe you? Nobody in their right mind would take _anything_ you say at face value. So I'll keep fucking you like the pathetic little bitch you are, and you can't do a damn thing about it!"

The pain, though still strong, had lost its edge as time went on. It was less like being stabbed with a burning dagger and more like that dull ache when your stamina is at its limit but you still keep running and everything is starting to feel numb and your vision is spotty from exhaustion, blurry from tears, and your chest hurts and you can't breathe and-

And the man raping you just told you he's going to cum, with no intention of pulling out.

At some point while he was being pounded into the mattress, Ouma's struggling had loosened the tie on his scarf, the makeshift gag falling onto the sheets. His sobs were audible now as he begged "please, n-not that. A-Anything but that." Momota only grinned, mocking the small boy.

"What, you don't want me to cum inside?" His grin fell, a deadly stare piercing into Ouma's soul. "This is your fault, _Kokichi_. You asked for this. Now you're gonna finish what you started." The astronaut's grip on the other's waist grew extensively rougher, leaving fingerprint bruises on the evil leader's pale skin.

Ouma pulled against the handcuffs once more, blood oozing from his wrists as he tried desperately to get away. For all his resistance, however, he had begun to believe his tormentor's words. _Nobody will care, even if I scream. Because I...deserve this. I deserve this pain. I deserve…_

All thoughts came to a screeching halt as Momota gave one final thrust, flooding his insides with a nauseating warmth. His mind and visage were both utterly blank as the astronaut stood, clothed only himself, removed the handcuffs, and left the room.

Ouma curled into a tight ball, shivering, as the substance dripped down his thighs and stained his sheets. He couldn't move, couldn't even cry. His broken spirit shut down completely, sending him into a fitful, restless sleep.

 _I deserve to be used_.


	2. Chapter 2 - Milk and Sugar

The instant Ouma awoke, all he could register was the pain. Blinding, searing agony that enveloped the lower half of his body. He leapt out of bed in pained confusion, but one glance down at his bare, bruised form brought everything rushing back.

Immediately he sprinted- by which I mean stumbled whilst crying piteously- into his bathroom, dropping to his knees in front of the toilet. Minutes felt like hours as his stomach's contents were expelled from his body, the boy continuing to heave long after nothing was left. He was covered in a cold sweat, his stomach joined the list of things causing him pain, and his face was dripping with tears, snot, and drool.

In summary, he was broken.

Ouma rose to unsteady feet and turned on his shower, stepping beneath the water without waiting for it to warm. When the temperature did rise, however, the heat made him nauseous, so he quickly turned the setting as cold as it would go. He collapsed in a heap within the icy-cold torrent, shuddering and sobbing pathetically, scrubbing his skin until it was red and sore in a desperate attempt to rid his body of Momota. His thoughts were disjointed, running a mile a minute yet never really moving.

 _How? How could I have been so weak? What kind of leader goes and gets a dick shoved up his ass? Pathetic. DICE is gonna need a new leader cause hell if I deserve that title anymore. God I wish that was just a nightmare. It won't be easy to laugh this one off. Fuck, everything hurts._

Fingers numb from the freezing water, the dictator reached up and yanked on his aubergine locks, pulling several strands out in the process. The aching in his scalp and burning in his skin provided a momentary distraction from the sting of emotion.

Slowly he stood, shaking like a leaf in the wind, and turned off the shower. The towel he dried off with and the clothes he then put on felt like knives against his tender skin, but no amount of pain could compare to his inner turmoil. The Ultimate Supreme Leader struggled not to burst into tears as he tied his scarf with fumbling fingers.

He'd have to bury these emotions deep in his soul, keeping the indifferent mask on.

Just like always.

...

 _Wait, how did I get back to my room?_

* * *

By the time Ouma entered the dining room, he had become accustomed to being set on fire with every step. He figured out how to balance his weight and how much he could use the wall as support to both relieve the pain but also keep the other students from noticing his change in behavior. Those students, astronaut included, acknowledged him with little more than a sparing glance as he trotted over to his seat at the end of the table. The barely visible wince he made when sitting down went unnoticed by all save Toujou.

"Ouma-san," she began, "what would you like for breakfast? At Chabashira-san's request, I have already prepared-" she was cut off by a loud groan from Ouma.

"No thanks, Toujou-chan. Whatever gross food you made is probably poisoned anyway, so I'll just-"

Momota snorted, "shut the fuck up, Ouma."

The dictator rolled his eyes to hide the way his expression faltered. " _You_ shut up, idiot-chan! I'll just have tea today, mom."

Toujou seemed ready to lecture him on nutrition, or his nickname choices, or perhaps the fact that tea is as easy to poison as food is, but she simply nodded and turned to walk towards the kitchen. "Very well."

Ignoring the agitated whispers of Momota to Harukawa, Ouma propped his elbow up on the table and rested his head on his palm, looking incredibly bored. He drummed his fingers against the table in an effort to calm the nervous energy brought on from just being _around_ Momota. He just wanted to go back to his room, lock the door, and lay in bed until he could no longer see or hear or smell or taste or _feel_ Kaito _fucking_ Momota.

He drank his tea without milk, repressing the urge to gag at how _warm_ it was. It tasted different, too. Toujou knew his favorite tea, he pondered, so why did she…?

The label read " _pain-relieving_."

He finished, thanked Toujou with a silent nod, and slipped out of the room, one pair of lilac-hued eyes burning holes in his back. Every step he took was calculated to exude confidence, strutting along like he owned the place. He laced his hands behind his head and plastered a smile onto his face, looking for all the world like he was in complete control. He dug his nails into his scalp to keep from expressing his pain in any way, setting his course to the dormitories.

* * *

Shuichi Saihara was nothing if not observant, and his current target was none other than one Kokichi Ouma. For all his prowess as the Ultimate Detective, Saihara knew next to nothing about the small boy. He was an enigma wrapped in a mystery covered in a puzzle soaked in lies, multiplied by 666 times the complexity.

He was confusing, and frustrating, and absolutely _fascinating_.

Observation #1: Ouma was somewhat quiet today, not making one of his typically grand entrances into the dining hall. His movements were cautious and stiff, and he kept his gaze directly on his tea as he drank it.

Observation #2: Ouma did not put milk in his tea today, which was odd considering his idea of tea _always_ involved more milk and sugar than actual tea. It was one of the only consistent things about him.

Observation #3: Ouma avoided looking in Kaito's direction, and seemed uncomfortable when the astronaut told him to shut up. He spoke even less after that.

Observation #4: Ouma's wrist(s?) had angry red scars circling them, scabbed over and just barely visible when he propped up his elbow, sleeve slipping down ever so slightly. They reminded Saihara of wounds produced by… handcuffs? Ouma had claimed to be a criminal, but these wounds looked recent, _very_ recent.

Observation #5: Ouma was incredible at feigning confidence.


	3. Chapter 3 - Supreme and Submissive

His hands were tied, hanging limply above his head, but that was the least of his worries.

There were egg vibrators taped to both of his nipples, buzzing against the sensitive nubs relentlessly. One calloused hand was wrapped around his already leaking cock, stroking it much too quickly for the small boy to handle; the other hand had three fingers pistoning in and out of his hole, a constant assault against his prostate. He was panting out moans, shaking from the overwhelming stimulation. Covered in sweat, back arched like a bow, moaning like a whore in a porno…

Kokichi Ouma had never felt like such a mess. In some respects, this was _worse_ than having Momota's dick tear him apart. The pleasure tore through him in waves, but all he could think was _what's the catch?_ There was no way, after all, that Momota was just going to get him off and then leave.

His thoughts dissolved into nothingness when Momota cranked up the vibrators to their highest setting, causing Ouma to cry out in unbridled pleasure. His body and mind were fighting a war; he wanted it, he didn't want it, oh _god_ he wanted it. Giving in to Kaito goddamn Momota was the last thing he wanted to do, but he was so _close_ , eyes half-lidded and hips pushing back against Momota's fingers, desperately searching for just a little more friction to-

It stopped.

Both hands pulled away, leaving him empty and painfully hard as the vibrators continued to buzz away on his chest. Two of the three sources of stimulation gone, he whimpered, falling down from the high he'd been so close to reaching. He was shivering, rolling his hips, trying in vain to reach that point again.

Momota laughed, "look at you, Kokichi! You really do like our time together, don't you, you little whore?" Ouma had the energy to do little more than whine in response. "Like a bitch in heat, just _begging_ to be fucked.

"You know," the astronaut smirked, "I'll finish you off if you really beg for it."

Ouma mustered up the fiercest glare he could, clenched his jaw, and spat out "I'd rather die."

Momota chuckled and resumed his ministrations at full force, grinning as Ouma threw his head back and _screamed_. "I _will_ break you, Kokichi."

And he did.

Up, down, up, down, again and again and _again_ he was brought to his climax only to be denied release. The fourth time, drool began to drip down his chin. The ninth time, tears rolled over his cheeks; he only noticed when he tasted the saltiness on his cracked lips. Two more cycles and the tears were joined by heart-wrenching sobs, but Momota didn't even pause in his effort.

A strange clicking noise, then: "All you have to do is beg, Kokichi."

Then, the twelfth time he felt that knot coiling in his belly, he begged. "I..ah~! I give! Please- ngh- Momota-kun! I c-can't take it! Let me cum! Please let me- hah~- cum! Please, please, please.. please..." His ego was taking a tremendous blow and Momota knew it.

Finally able to release, Ouma screamed so hard his voice broke, thrashing violently to find some sort of purchase as he drowned in white-hot pleasure. Only small whimpers and sobs escaped him as the astronaut undid his restraints. He tore off the vibrators, unceremoniously collapsing onto his bed, naked and panting and splattered with his own drying seed.

He grabbed a pillow and hugged it to his chest, burying his red face in it like Momota wasn't still sitting a few feet away. He had no idea how long that torture had gone on, but he was utterly exhausted. His limbs were numb, still tingling with the remnants of his orgasm. _How_ … he thought, _how could this happen? How could I let Momota do this to me? Supreme leaders should never beg for anything! But he-_

Ouma's rumination was interrupted by the faintest of touches against the nape of his neck, slowly trailing down his back. A shiver shot through his spine, entire body tense as the feather-light strokes moved lower, lower, and then-

 _Smack!_

The small boy yelped in both surprise and pain as Momota's palm slammed against his ass, then beginning to knead the flesh as though to soothe it. His muscles twitched; he was still very sensitive, after all. Not to mention the green and purple bruises remaining from their first session.

 _Smack!_ His body jolted, his grip around the pillow growing even tighter. He was shaking, shoulders jerking with poorly suppressed sobs.

Laughter. "What happened to the 'evil supreme leader' act, Kokichi? Cat got your tongue?" He responded with little more than a sob, his thin form shuddering. Momota pinched the skin on his side, then the back of his neck. He jerked away from both. "You know, I bet everyone would like you much better like this." He then reached around to pinch Ouma's nipple, invading the fragile bubble of protection the pillow provided. The boy spasmed and whimpered, violet eyes shut tight as Momota rolled him onto his back.

"Such a submissive little slut, and sensitive too." That weird clicking noise sounded again. "I wonder what they'd all say if they saw you like this? I bet they'd laugh; you're pathetic."

His voice was hoarse, barely a whisper. "They...they wouldn't…"

"Wouldn't care? That's absolutely right."

"S-Saihara-chan…"

"Doesn't give a shit about you. And he _never, ever will._ "

The astronaut pushed his legs apart with a snicker.

* * *

"Hey Kaito, does, uh...does Ouma-kun seem a bit off to you?"

"Whataya mean, bro?"

"He's...quiet. He doesn't say anything unless he's directly spoken to; it's very unusual."

"I guess that's a bit freaky, but good riddance, I say! Why do you care anyway? He's done nothing but cause trouble up 'til now."

"That is true, but…"

"But?"

"N-Nevermind. It's nothing. You're right."

* * *

 _Saihara-chan, I know I'm the least trustworthy person you've ever met, but I'm telling the truth when I say Momota-chan raped me for the second time today_. Ouma sighed from where he stood in front of Saihara's door, unable to bring himself to knock. _Yeah, I'm sure that'll go over well. He'd_ totally _believe me. Not._

He raised a hand, resigning himself to just spending an hour or so pestering Saihara, when someone else's covered his mouth. His eyes shot wide open and he immediately began to thrash about, fighting against the person whose arm pinned his to his sides.

"Be still, Kokichi." He froze; the voice was Momota's. "You should know by now that it hurts more when you struggle." The taller man grinded against him, his hand muffling the hitch in Ouma's breath. He removed his arm from around the ruler's abdomen, instead moving his legs to secure Ouma's in place. "For your sake, I hope you weren't planning on telling Shuichi anything. After all," several photographs were dangled in front of his face, "I don't think you'd want anyone to see these, would you?"

It was a surreal experience, seeing those images printed and shown to him. Him deep in the throes of pleasure, face flushed red; him with tears staining his cheeks, begging for release; him sprawled out beneath Momota, embarrassment and fear evident in his expression. They were physical proof of how he'd been humiliated, a constant reminder of how his reputation would be dragged through the dirt should he ever confide in someone. _Blackmail_ , he cursed, _how underhanded of you, Kai-chan._

"Go back to your room, Kokichi. Go to sleep, you look terrible." Having pocketed the photos, his hand slipped beneath the shorter boy's shirt, lightly thumbing one of his nipples. He growled, "I don't think you want to know what I'll do if you even consider coming back out here."

The Ultimate Supreme Leader shuddered, stumbled forward, and did as he was told.


End file.
